


blinded and bound

by bluebismuth



Series: TMA Fic (Regency Era) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Dubious Relationships, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Kink, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebismuth/pseuds/bluebismuth
Summary: Jonah is restless in the accommodations Jonathan has set up. Jonathan offers a solution.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus
Series: TMA Fic (Regency Era) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075613
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	blinded and bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleMagpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMagpie/gifts).



> for magpie in the jonah server!!
> 
> also: while it's only mentioned in places, both jonah and jonathan are transmasc, and barnabas is amab + gender non-conforming
> 
> there will definitely be a second (+ potentially third depending on how it goes) part to this........eventually

“Kit.” Jonathan snaps his fingers underneath the desk, and he hears a slight rattle soon afterwards. Good. He’s listening. “My first patient should be arriving in ten minutes. Let’s not make this painful.”

He gets up from his desk chair and kneels on the ground, dragging the cage out from under it. Jonah glares at him, eyes narrowed. If he were an actual cat, he would likely be hissing and spitting at him now. Jonathan figures if he were any more accepting towards this manner, he would be.

He doesn’t like the fact that he has to keep Jonah like this, only let out of his cage when there are guests in the house—and even then, only able to roam the span of a single room. But it’s needed. Jonah _and_ Barnabas need this.

Jonathan unlocks the cage and opens it, but Jonah stays as tucked into the opposite corner as he can. “Kit, really,” he says, sighing. “I thought you liked being out of the cage.”

“Not when you only give me _Barnabas_ for company and lock me away,” Jonah spits back.

“I keep both of you hidden. My pup isn’t more acceptable to the public than you are.” Jonathan turns, seeing Barnabas in the doorway. “Speaking of which…” he mutters, before snapping his fingers again. Barnabas’s head snaps up. “Come. Help me get my kit out.” 

Barnabas nods, walking over and getting down on all fours once he’s close enough. He pushes his head against Jonathan’s side for a moment before reaching out a hand to Jonah, trying to be approachable. 

Jonathan can _feel_ Jonah’s stare as it goes from him to Barnabas, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the Eye’s influence or not. He hopes it isn’t. He can’t let this whole…operation go to waste.

After what feels like several minutes, Jonah huffs and grabs onto Barnabas’s hand. Barnabas smiles and starts pulling him out further, gathering him into his arms. 

“There we are,” Jonathan says, his hand going up to nestle into Jonah’s hair. If nothing else, he knows that no matter how mad he is at him, he still leans into his touch as he scratches at his scalp. He doesn’t want to neglect Barnabas, though—god knows after everything that that’s the last thing he needs—so he puts his free hand in his hair, scratching there as well. Barnabas’s melting is much more obvious, and he closes his eyes in content.

“Now.” Jonathan removes his hands and stands up, helping Barnabas to stand as well while he keeps a hold on Jonah. “My patient should be arriving any minute. Keep yourselves entertained.”

Before sending them off, he presses a kiss to each of their foreheads. Jonah makes a displeased noise, but he doesn’t pull away, and he doesn’t fight Barnabas as he’s carried to the study.

— — —

Barnabas sits Jonah on the armchair once they’re in the study. “Does that...feel any better?” He asks. Jonathan’s never said he couldn’t, so he tries to let Jonah act a little more human when they’re alone. And usually, Jonah would be glad to take advantage of this, stretching out his limbs and reading whatever he could on the shelves.

But even as Barnabas settles into his own cushion, he notices that Jonah hasn’t moved from his curled up position on the chair. He tilts his head in concern. “Jonah, what’s wrong?”

“As if you haven’t noticed,” he replies, bitterness coating his words. “For someone who certainly wasn’t treated like a dog before all of this, you don’t seem to mind.”

“Jonathan doesn’t treat us like _animals.”_

“He keeps us naked except for these damn collars.” Jonah fits a thumb under the thick leather around his neck. “We’re not allowed to be on the furniture, or sit at the table for meals. We’re completely reliant on him, and we’re not allowed to see anyone else. And he keeps me in a cage when he doesn’t have patients.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Barnabas from across the room. “Or do you only not mind because he treats _you_ better?”

Barnabas balks at that. “It would still be better even if I was locked up all day and fed through the cage.”

“I thought you weren’t _scared_ of Mordechai.” Jonah’s eyes _flash_ when he says that, as he drums his fingers on the armrest.

“I’m _not,”_ Barnabas snaps, glad that Jonah can’t look into his mind. “Just...I-I’d rather not take the risk. And Jonathan...I know he’s not going to hurt me.”

He can _feel_ Jonah’s gaze on him narrow, before it dissipates. “Only because you had nothing to lose. I don’t trust Jonathan to take care of the Institute in my place. He doesn’t have the same...dedication that I do.”

“Jonah, _really,_ how hard is storing written documents of the supernatural?” Barnabas rolls his eyes, but they then widen when Jonah gets out of the chair and makes his way over to him, fists clenched and face flushed in anger.

Neither of them move for a few moments, eyes locked on each other. “I could strike you right here,” Jonah threatens.

Barnabas knows that his threats of violence are just that; all bark—hiss?—and no bite. “You could,” he replies, still staring up at Jonah.

They keep staring at each other, until Jonah huffs and storms off to one of the bookshelves. He grabs a random book and goes back to his armchair, curling up tight. Barnabas sighs and rests his head on his arm, trying to get comfortable.

He eventually turns away from Jonah to stare at the wall, idly thumbing at his collar. He knows what Jonah sees it as; a sign of ownership, that Jonathan controls them both. But it’s more than that, for Barnabas. It is security, safety, the fact that someone wants to keep and care for and _love_ him. 

Barnabas curls in on himself. If only Jonathan weren’t so _busy._ He only had Sunday off, and even then, he still had to tend to any emergencies that sprang up. If Barnabas had his way, Jonathan would be lying under him, forced to relax for once as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Jonathan’s neck.

And Jonah would be curled next to them, embracing his new position beside them, basking in their love.

Barnabas turns his head to look at Jonah, who’s still engrossed in his book. “Stop _staring_ at me,” Jonah snaps, not even looking up from the pages. “I can _feel_ it.”

Barnabas sighs and looks away. For all the knowledge Jonah so desperately wants to gain, he can’t seem to understand something so simple as Jonathan wanting to protect them.

— — —

It had been like that for the past fortnight. Jonathan kept Jonah under his desk until he started receiving patients, at which point Jonah and Barnabas would retreat into the study. They would have meals together, although Jonathan was the only one that would actually sit at the table. Sometimes, if either of them had been particularly good, he would allow them to take a seat as well during dinner. At the end of the day, Barnabas would curl up at Jonathan’s feet on the bed, with Jonah curled up on the cushion next to it.

Despite Jonah’s protests to the setup, he hadn’t properly fought back. Maybe it was because he knew Jonathan would punish him if he did. Perhaps he secretly liked being subservient to him, and his small spats were just a facade. Neither were all that surprising, if only because Jonathan knew Jonah’s spitfire nature did not run very deep, all things considered.

Whatever his motivation was, Jonah was clear on continuing to resist Jonathan. Today, though, he seemed more...short-tempered. Hostile. Perhaps it was because he had woken up late that day and found himself being dragged by Jonathan to his office. Or because it had been windy, and the slight creaking of the house bothered him when there was nothing else to focus on.

There was a chance that it was both, perhaps even something else, when Jonathan dragged the cage out and opened the door. Jonah looked frantic, eager to be out despite there being no relief on his face. 

When Barnabas reaches a hand out to grab Jonah, though, that’s when things shift. It’s _too much,_ too much stimulus from getting woken up badly and spending the morning with the house creaking and Jonathan’s pen scratching on the desk and now with Barnabas’s hand on him…

 _“Don’t **touch** me!”_ he cries out, raking his fingernails down Barnabas’s arm with his free hand. Barnabas yelps and lets him go, and he and Jonathan can only watch as he races down the hall.

“Jon—Kit!” Jonathan calls. He wants to yell at Jonah to get back here, that he’s going to punish him, but...he can’t. It doesn’t feel _right_ in that situation.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by Barnabas gently pressing his forehead against his shoulder. When Jonathan turns to inspect his arm, his eyes widen when he realizes that Barnabas is _bleeding._ Not badly, but still certainly concerning.

“Barnabas…” he starts, and Barnabas _knows_ that he’s being serious now. “You remember how I taught you to treat cuts like these, right?”

Thankfully, Barnabas nods. “Alright. I’m...going to go check on Jonah.” Jonathan cups one of his cheeks and kisses the other before leaving.

It doesn’t take long for him to do just that. He checks in the bedroom first, finding it unlikely that Jonah would go to the study in his distress over his new role. While he’s not there, Jonathan does find that the dresser drawers for Jonah’s clothes, having gone untouched for the past few weeks, have been haphazardly opened and closed, with part of a loose shirt sticking out.

Jonathan feels the urge to fold it back into its proper pace, but he pushes it out of his mind. He should find Jonah first, make sure that he hasn’t damaged anything else, or worse, himself.

He can hear someone breathing in the washroom from the hallway—panicked, hyperventilating breaths. Jonathan frowns and pushes the door to the washroom open further.

He can see Jonah’s calves and feet from behind the bathtub, and as much as he wants to rush over and comfort him, Jonathan knows he shouldn’t. Jonah needs someone careful, someone willing to be logical right now. And if Jonathan can’t be the careful, logical one between the three of them, well…

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jonah,” he starts out, leaving the door open. Just in case it makes Jonah feel safer. As much as he can’t leave the house, he doesn’t want to confine him to a single, small room like this one. Not now.

He steps closer, choosing to sit on the floor opposite Jonah when he reaches the tub. Scaring him isn’t what either of them needs right now. “Jonah?” Jonathan tries again. “Are you awake?”

Instead of words, Jonah lets out a huff and bumps his back against the tub. “Okay,” Jonathan responds. He shouldn’t force him to say anything now. 

He hums, thinking for a moment. “How about...one tap on the tub for ‘yes’ and two taps for ‘no’?”

There’s a pause, before Jonah taps once against the iron. 

“Alright. Are you...feeling any better?”

The pause is longer this time, but Jonah still taps once. Jonathan feels like he’s hesitating, wondering if he should tap a second time, before he drops his hand to the floor.

“I’m sorry for waking you up so abruptly this morning. I had woken up late myself, and I was fretting about getting up to work on time. But I should have woken you up properly first, and for failing to do that, I’m sorry.” Jonathan pauses himself, taking a breath. “Do you accept my apology?”

Jonah taps the tub almost immediately, and Jonathan can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven him—Jonah isn’t exactly one to forgive easily—but acceptance is enough.

Jonathan bites his lip. “I just have a couple more questions. Is that alright?” A single tap. “Are you...capable of speaking to me? Do you want to?”

There’s a long pause, but eventually, Jonah breaks the silence. “Yes…” he responds. He sounds... _tired._ Jonathan figures that the only reason he sounds as such is because of the barrier between them; that he can’t fully see Jonah’s vulnerability.

Still, it’s...nice, to hear Jonah’s voice. Odd that he would miss something where an excess of it was unbearable, but perhaps their arrangement has softened Jonathan’s view of him, now that he’s in control. “Is there anything you want me to do for you? Barring leaving, of course.”

Jonah sighs, and he leans his head back on the tub. “I can feel you weakening my connection to the Beholding whenever you remind me I’m stuck here. It feels like you’re dragging something out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan replies, and he isn’t sure if he means it or not. He wonders, fleetingly, if Jonah would know if he did, if his connection to the Eye were any more powerful. “I hope you’ll understand why I have to do this, someday.”

“I _would,_ if I grew stronger.” Jonah huffs. “You don’t know _what_ the Beholding promised me, Doctor. What you took away from me.”

It...stings a little, for Jonah to regard him so coldly. “Knowledge is certainly a noble pursuit, but...I believe there is a point where other things are more important. Serving a...god of knowledge, whose true form we can’t possibly comprehend...call me close-minded, but I simply think that’s too far.” 

The only thing that gives Jonathan any comfort is that there were documented ways of combating the Dread Powers Jonah flirted with. It depended on just how close one was to them, and they weren’t guaranteed to work—perhaps, even, one could fall to another if they weren’t careful.

But Jonathan does his best to be careful, in all that he does. And even if they don’t work with Jonah, the fact that some who encountered the Dread Powers fought back instead of cowering in their presence...it gave him hope nevertheless.

“Jonah,” he tries again. “I...want to try something. If you find that it is too unpleasant, or that your body is too weak, we don’t have to do it anymore. I’ll handcuff you for the first couple of times, but Barnabas will be there if you ever need to take it off.”

There’s a pause. “What exactly are you asking of me?” There’s an odd wariness to his voice.

Jonathan sighs. He hopes that Jonah doesn’t lose his composure. “I want to try blindfolding you once you’ve come to my office. I want to see if it will...lessen the effect the Eye has on you right now. I want to be cautious, but...I did all of this with the express purpose of keeping you and Barnabas safe from the Dread Powers. And I intend to stick to that. I recognize that you’re...unhappy with that arrangement, but I fear if I let you go any further down that road, there would be no way to bring you back. And...I want to keep you here, Jonah. I really do.”

It takes all of his willpower to say those last two sentences, to free them from his mind and bring them into the world. Jonathan knows how to hide his vulnerabilities, it had been an essential skill to keep suspicion off of him so he could pursue his career, so his life before he presented as a man would not be known. 

Admittedly, he may have gotten _too_ good at hiding those kinds of emotions. His mind races at the implications of telling _Jonah Magnus_ of all people his feelings for him. Jonathan’s hands start to shake, and he sets one on the ground to try and steady himself. Some deeper part of him inches it around the bathtub, wanting to touch Jonah, to reassure himself that he’s _here,_ that he doesn’t hate him.

The tension is palpable. Neither of them says a word.

Jonathan can hear Jonah sliding his hand along the floor. Fingers touch his hands, and Jonathan clasps Jonah’s hand in his own.

“I’ll try it,” Jonah finally says. “If only because I want to know what it’s like.”

Even now, Jonathan can tell that it’s not the only reason he’s agreeing.

— — —

Despite caring for him, Jonathan doesn’t want to be too lenient with Jonah. He’s made that mistake before, even when Jonah was more vulnerable. He directs him back to their bedroom and has him go to his knees, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor. Jonah still makes a bit of a fuss, but in the end, he obeys.

Jonathan goes to the dresser next and takes out two of Jonah’s cravats, hoping that the familiarity of the fabric will ease his mind somewhat. Jonah tenses as he ties the dark green fabric around his face, obscuring his vision.

“How does that feel, kit?” Jonathan asks, tilting Jonah’s head up so he can inspect him closer. He looks more...blank, like this, trying to decide if he enjoys it or not. At the very least, Jonathan hopes he’s shielded from the Eye.

“Strange,” Jonah finally responds. There is no more edge to his voice, and something tells Jonathan that Jonah desperately wants there to be. A part of him misses it.

“Well...hopefully, you’ll get used to it. Give me your hands, now.” Jonah huffs and raises his hands in front of Jonathan, letting him tie the second piece of fabric around his wrists. Jonah tugs at his wrists once Jonathan pulls away, frowning when the fabric doesn’t budge.

“Come.” Jonathan puts a hand on Jonah’s arm and lifts him, and he stands with the movement. Perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t want to bump into anything, but Jonathan’s surprised at how much Jonah lets him guide him out of the bedroom and down to the study.

Barnabas is reading a book on his cushion when the two of them arrive, and his eyes turn to Jonah’s blindfold. “Did...everything go alright?”

“As well as it could have.” Jonathan leads Jonah further into the study until he’s standing next to Barnabas. “Lay down, kit.”

Jonah looks over at him with a hint of animosity before letting himself be pushed down. He slumps against Barnabas’s side, curling into his warmth. A part of him wishes that he didn’t have work today, that he could just stay with the two of them, read to them and pet their heads when they inevitably fall asleep. 

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts, though, and Jonathan sighs. “I have to attend to my first patient of the day, it seems. Can you make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, pup?”

Barnabas flushes at the name, and he nods. He gets a kiss on the forehead in return, and Jonah receives one as well before Jonathan leaves the study.

— — —

For all his anxieties, Jonah is surprisingly pliant. He trembles and whimpers occasionally, with Barnabas holding him only temporarily quelling them. Eventually, Barnabas decides to get up and carry him over to his armchair instead. “Would me reading to you help at all?” he asks, looking down at him after setting him down. Jonah looks aimless without his burgeoning connection to his patron, and for a moment, Barnabas worries that that part of him won’t come back. The part that made charming everyone around him so easy, so full of wit and pride. Jonah had certainly earned the circle he’d made for himself, his only tools a silver tongue and an all-seeing god.

Perhaps this was who Jonah was under all of it: a scared, aimless man vying for power by any means necessary.

Jonathan would likely tell Barnabas that it was for the best; better to leave Jonah like this so he couldn’t hurt anyone or himself in that desperation.

Barnabas reaches over and brushes a few of Jonah’s curls away from his face, feeling his heart melt when Jonah leans into his touch. He has to trust Jonathan on this one. Deep down, he knows that they would be the first to be hurt if Jonah remained unchecked.

“Would you like me to read to you?” he finally asks, running his thumb over the blindfold. Jonah nods—Barnabas figures it could soothe his nerves. “Right,” Barnabas replies, going back to his cushion and picking up his book. “Now, where were we…”

— — —

When Barnabas hears the door open, he stifles a laugh and looks up at Jonathan. “Took you long enough. Are you working from dawn to dusk now?”

“Pup,” Jonathan warns, but there’s little to it. Instead, he walks over to Jonah, who seems to be waking up from a nap. “Off the furniture, now.” He picks up Jonah under his arms and sits him down next to the chair, before sitting down in his place. He sighs, looking up at the ceiling as Barnabas crawls over.

“Was it unusually rough? Or are you just tired like always now?” 

Jonathan sighs, threading his fingers into Barnabas’s hair. “Nothing unusual. Either way, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m the one in charge here.” 

He looks over to Jonah and lets out a quiet _“oh”,_ bending down to untie Jonah’s wrists and blindfold. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for Jonah to cry out and grip his trousers to keep from collapsing once his sight is restored. Barnabas’s eyes widen, and he reaches over to hold Jonah. 

“Christ, Jonah, what happened?!” Barnabas asks, trying not to grip him too tightly in his own panic.

“I-I…” he lets out a shaky laugh. “It was...merely a lot, all at once. I felt the Beholding rush back into me the moment Jonathan gave me my sight back.” He gazes up at Jonathan, piercing green eyes almost _too_ bright, as if the returning power was threatening to lose control and burst out of him. 

“Well…” Jonathan sighs, stroking Jonah’s cheek. “Perhaps Barnabas can give you a break from the blindfold every so often. If only to make sure your reaction to having your sight back is not as extreme.” Jonah silently nods, pressing his face against Barnabas’s shoulder.

They stay there for a while longer, with Barnabas’s face pressed to Jonathan’s thigh, and Jonah curled tight in Barnabas’s lap. When Jonathan gets up to start making dinner, Barnabas follows him, still carrying Jonah in his arms. Jonah doesn’t make a fuss about staying on the floor this time.

When Barnabas eventually convinces Jonathan to finish up his work and come to bed, Jonah curls up on his cushion easily.

“I didn’t think the change would be so drastic,” Barnabas whispers to Jonathan from the foot of the bed. 

Jonathan hums in reply—of course he’s still awake. “How was he while I was working?” He sits up in bed and gestures for Barnabas to come closer. He readily obeys, curling up next to Jonathan and suppressing a shiver as he runs a hand through his hair. Barnabas can see the moonlight glinting off of his glasses.

“A little nervous at first, but I read to him for a while and that seemed to calm him down.” 

Jonathan nods, scratching at his scalp. “Maybe there’s still hope that he can be fully cut off from the Eye. Suppose we’ll have to see how it pans out, though.”

Barnabas hums, looking over to where Jonah is curled up. He sees his fingers flex just the slightest bit, the smallest of noises coming from his mouth. Too small to tell if they’re of distress or not. “I just hope it doesn’t hurt him too badly.”

“I do too.” Jonathan’s hand stills in Barnabas’s hair, and he cups his cheek with his free hand. “But I’m sure you know that even if it does hurt him, it’s for the best. I don’t want you to get hurt because I failed to control him properly.”

“Right…” Barnabas’s voice quiets even more, his eyes still on Jonah. He knows that his want for power _by any means necessary_ is no joke, but...he still doesn’t want to _hurt_ Jonah. His ears perk up when he hears another noise from Jonah, a clear but still quiet whimper.

Barnabas sighs. Curse his soft heart.

“Sleep, pup,” Jonathan tells him, suppressing a yawn of his own. Barnabas turns away and lets Jonathan hold him, but he can’t help glancing back at Jonah every so often.

Jonathan will take care of them both. He knows that much.


End file.
